3. NASH

My mask of choice was sleek and elegant. It was actually just an old mask I'd once made at the compound for some event the coven held. It had a single pink feather on it and was covered in dry pasta shapes. It was my attempt at a venetian mask. I'd since spray painted it gold, and the pasta shapes or pink feather didn't stick out as much. All gold. There was no other way of telling people you were one of them by adorning yourself in the color of wealth.

I'd spent the day preparing my outfit, and also trying to figure out where this party was. I had also tried getting in contact with my twin brother too, but he was always busy doing something. If he wanted to contact me, he would, so I left him and could easily tell my folks he was fine. It wasn't like he ever get himself into trouble.

As soon as darkness descended on the city, I was preparing my escape. My sister was at my bedroom door, ready to start having a go at me for not telling her about my party, or where I was going.

"Mel," I whispered to her through the door jamb. "I promise next time, I'll take you. But this time. It's a private event."

We argued in whispers, back and forth with each other. "I wanna go."

"You can't. It's invite only, and only I was invited."

Last night at the party, I hadn't exactly been told it was invite only, but I assumed as much. A party that only happened once every so often, not even yearly. I wasn't going to waste that opportunity on giving my sister an invite. I loved her, but I loved my independence more. And it wasn't like she would tell on me.

Dressed in a nice black suit, white shirt, freshly starched, and a bow tie. I looked the part of someone who could attend a masked ball. It obviously wasn't a finished look until I put my hat on. It completed the look.

The party was on the upper east side. Manhattan. I teleported myself into an alley, sure enough I was away from prying away. I'd held onto the note paper and my mask. I knew I'd have to flex some of my ability to get through with just this note paper and a code word.

Photographers, flashing and popping at celebrities as they left cars caught me off-guard. Bodyguards in suits patrolled the area, making sure nobody was getting in. There was a small slip of unsecured space in their perimeter.

"I have an invite," I said, waving around the slip of paper. "Let me in."

At the door of the apartment building, there was a woman with a checklist against a clipboard. As people queued to see her, many of them were turned away. Celebrities I'd seen on the covers of magazines, papped as they were refused energy.

My hands were sweaty, making the paper in my hands become moist.

I was next up. "Hi."

"Name," she said.

I tried to reach out, flexing some ability in her direction. "I'm—"

She inched away. "Name, please. Either you live here, or you're attending something here. I have all the names of approved guests on this list."

"Nash," I told her.

"No," she said without looking at it.

I tried one more to touch her, force a thought in her head, a memory of my name on that list.

Just as I tried, a familiar voice called out from behind. "You're here," she said. "Are you going in?"

"He's not on the list," the woman said, removing the silver mask pinned to her face with elastics. It was Mrs. Hoppin from last night. "And your name?"

"Mrs. Hoppin," I said. "It's nice to see you again."

"Catrina and Bernard Hoppin," she said. "My husband is that man." She gestured to the man basking in the flash photography like it was sunlight. "And this here is our guest. We're allowed one of those. Aren't we?"

The woman stuttered a little. "I—uh—well—"

"Our son," she continued. "He's our son."

And that worked a treat. We were let through into the arches of the building. There was someone standing by the lift with a silver tray and flutes of champagne.

"Should we wait for your husband?" I asked her.

Catrina had a rich laugh, throwing a hand to her chest. "Oh no, he's out there taking in all the media attention. I'll let him do that for as long as he likes," she said, taking a glass of champagne from the tray.

I took one and the elevator door dinged open.

There was a man standing in it, dressed in a red suit with a matching red cap. "Are you here for Mr. DeMauriel's event?"

I put my mask up to my face. "Of course," I said.

"I don't wear a mask every day, sweetheart," she said. "Take us to the party."

It was the first time I'd heard his last name being spoken aloud. DeMauriel. It didn't have anything familiar to it. It had a strange sound on it as the letters rolled around on my tongue.

As the elevator doors closed, we were shown our reflections in the gold mirrored doors.

"I hope you've brought some of that sparkle with you tonight," Catrina said.

"Sparkle?"

"The magic," she said with a giggle. "I find it so much fun to see the way you captivate people with your party tricks. And I'm sure our host will love it too."

I was nervous about meeting the host. He hadn't invited me. He was bound to know that I wasn't on the list. Catrina had told the woman at the door I was her son, but Bernard might not play along. I downed the entire flute of champagne before the doors opened back up.

We were inside the apartment.

It felt like stepping back in time. The wood paneled walls, the muted green fabrics of the curtains draped across walls and windows. People in three-piece suits and fancy gowns walked by with masks covering part or their full face.

Stepping inside the apartment together. Catrina had the same expressions as me. We were both taken aback. Above us, a chandelier that scattered delicate rainbow colors in the lighting.

Another wait staff came by with a silver tray. I swiped a glass and downed it. Now, with two empty champagne flutes, I was looking to arm myself with a third.

"I hope you're not collecting," Catrina laughed. "Well, I'll leave you to go and mingle. You don't want to be saddled with me all evening."

As much as that was true, I didn't want her to feel like I'd used her for this party alone. "I'll see you again soon, I'm going to see if I can find somewhere to place these glasses. I definitely don't want it to look like I'm stealing."

She laughed harder, pawing my hand. "And remember to keep that mask up. These places have strict rules. You don't want to be caught without it covering your eyes at least."

It was going to be a great deal of effort to keep the mask up, especially since it was a venetian mask style with the stick. I should've opted for an elastic or string.

Although people had their masks, I could tell who a couple people were from previous parties I'd attended. Most of them were older, in fact, all of them were older. Celebrities who hadn't been in the limelight for years. I was fascinated by the invitation system.

There was a staircase that was cordoned off to an upper floor. I desperately wanted to see inside. It was my nature to be curious. It got me into a lot of trouble, but what was life if there wasn't any risk.

The moment I appeared to touch the red rope, a girl came over to me, my age. She wore an emerald dress and matching mask with feathers. "You can't go up there," she said, touching my arm. It was a fleeting moment of contact, but informed me of so much.

A vampire. This was a vampire's residence. It wasn't hers, but someone else's.

"Are you ok?" she asked as I was seemingly stunned to a silence. "It's my uncle's place. I think we're the youngest here."

"Your uncle, he's the Mr. DeMauriel?"

She nodded. "The one and only. Don't worry though, I don't think he's going to actually visit. He wrote each of the invites himself, and I doubt he invited you. No offence or anything, but the crowd is obviously—"

"A lot older than I am."

"Exactly," she said. "My uncle is only just now figuring out how to work a phone." She cocked her head and looked at me with a furtive crease in her brows. "You're a witch."

"And you're a—"

She placed a finger to my mouth. "Let's not spook the guests. I'm guessing that's how you managed to score an invited then," she said. "So, what's someone like you doing at a place like this?"

"Playing with humans is my favorite game," I admitted. "I like the way they look at me when I perfect little magic tricks for them. It's a nice feeing."

"I bet," she said. "I don't get the same feeling. Usually, whenever I show what I can do, people are scared."

"Nash," I said, introducing myself.

"Estefania," she said. "And whatever you're thinking, you're right. My uncle is just like me."

A lot of things quickly slotted in space and made sense. Her uncle being a vampire and hosting an event every ten or so years was wild, but as a vampire, mostly immortal, there was a clear reason as to why that happened.

"Can I meet him?"

"You heard me, right?" she asked. "My uncle probably won't come down to this thing. He's upstairs. Scrolling TikTok I think. He's trying to learn all the things he missed."

I knew she wasn't telling me exact information, but the more she said, the more I was getting from her. Mr. DeMauriel had been in a hibernation it seemed, so much so that he'd missed most of the world's technological advances pass.

"Well, since I'm usually the only supernatural at these things, it's like someone else is getting a peek behind the curtain," I said. "Wanna see what a real party looks like?"

"As long as you don't remove your mask," she said. "That rule is strict."

With a thread from the aether, I strung the mask up behind my head, securing it in place. I hadn't wanted to exercise my abilities like this, but I used both hands a lot of the times. I had a flair for the dramatics.

Estefania gave me a short applause. "I'm impressed."

"If I show you something cooler, will you let me meet your uncle?" The idea of meeting someone who could score invites to even hotter parties was enticing. I lived for the thrill of entertaining.

"My uncle does as he pleases," she said. "But I can promise you that if you impress me, I might let you hit on me."

A record scratch cut through me. I almost lost the invisible string threading the mask up behind my head. "I don't swing that way."

She scoffed. "All the fun ones are gay," she said, combining her fingers through the tips of her hair. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to see any of those tricks up your sleeve."

"Then let's go to the bar."

I did what I knew best, illusions. People saw small fireworks in their glasses of champagne and sparkles appears as the fizz. The guests at the event all wanted a show, it was nice to feel all the eyes on me like this, every single one of them acting like I was the one who'd thrown this extravagant party.Estefania had since vanished into the crowd of people.

It took a lot out of me to put on a show for so many people. And even when I stopped, I was being approached with questions about how it all worked.

And as one more person approached, a voice cut them off. "I was just about to talk to you."

I turned to see a masked man with deep brown hair in waves. A white porcelain mask with gold edges over his eyes with extravagant white feathers in both corners. "I can't give away all my secrets," I said. "But I can do another little firework in your drink if you like."

He smirked. "I won't stop you." He held out the full flute of champagne. "I only saw it from far away."

"I'm Nash," I said, sucking in a deep breath. I pulled everything I had out. My well of magic desperate to be replenished. The color of the champagne turned red and then pink. "I'm sorry, that's not—"

The man drank it. "Mhmm."

"You should've waited for it to go back," I said.

His eyes turned deep red as he looked at me. He grabbed hold of my hand by the wrist. "You," he whispered. "Oh."

"Me?" I couldn't sense anything about him, other than his cold grip.

"Kiss me," he said. I watched his lips move and his teeth gently bite down on his bottom lip. "You remind me of someone."

That was as good a reason as any. I leaned in and kissed him. My mind seemed to explode with small zapping pops. His cold tongue entered my mouth, and for a moment, I thought we were two abstract balls of light merging as one.

The second he pulled away, the intense light energy from him faded out of my mind. "My first kiss in over twenty years," he said.

And just as I was about to put the two together, him being the owner of this apartment, and the vampire uncle, I was sucked through a portal back into my bedroom.

Melize stood there, gasping for breath. "Ugh," she said. "Mom and dad are coming. Someone saw a picture of you. Get changed. And I hate you for not inviting me to that party."

The invisible thread snapped, dropping the mask. I was still reeling from the kiss. But I couldn't blame Melize for saving my ass on this one. And the last thing I wanted was to bring shame on the family name, or worse, the coven.

Footsteps came toward the door as I was already stripped to my boxers and a tank top. Melize was practicing some improv, throwing me in at the deep end of a conversation she was having with herself.

"And so I told her that I wasn't going to have enough time to crochet anymore amigurumi," she said. "Please, the yarn is expensive and then there's—"

"Oh," my mom said walking in on us.

"Thank god you're here," I said. "She's been talking my ear off."

My parents were easily fooled, either that, or they wanted me to believe they were easily fooled. I liked to think it was a former of the two.

And when they all left the room, I was stuck thinking about Mr. DeMauriel, and without the strength to summon a portal back to the party, thinking about him was all I could do.